Born a docile puppy with speed in his genes
he'll learn to kill as soon as he weans
Sold as a racer he becomes a mere object
the fault of spectators for they don't object
The lure he must learn to chase
this is why he'll run the race
He knows not the risk if he isn't the best
he's trained hard and this is the test
His first race, and his only chance for fame
investors won't care how close he came
He enters the chutes blood taught and ready
adrenaline pumps but his legs are steady
Last minute idiots place their bet
with dogs in line, the stage is set
The gates swing open and their on the run
his life is at stake, this race must be won
There is no room for a greyhound to slack
his legs so swift, he flies the track
Though all of them are very fast
one of them must come in last
But for all the dogs it's do or die
human arrogance, dare they defy?
Rounding the course with the finish ahead
come morning the losers may already be dead
He crosses the line, the first of his kind
leaving the poor unlucky behind
There is only room for one winning hound
those losing money-pits can't be kept around
By night some peers are loaded on trucks
sold to a laboratory for a few bucks
The injured are dragged into a dirty shed
where the unsatisfactory are shot in the head
The winner is crammed back into bars
left only to hear the gunshots and cars
Called a sport by money hungry men
do or die, he'll race again
But used and worn he'll soon fall apart
his body abused, leaving only his heart
His joints and bones old at the age of two
he'll be thrown out to bring in the new

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